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April 28th 2011

Published: June 8th 2011

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Delek Delek

Hassan II Mosque

The most impressive sight in Casablanca, and perhaps even Morocco.

The name of the place just has that classic, romantic ring to it, doesn't it? Maybe it's because it's the name and setting for one of the most famous films of all time. Maybe it's because it sounds like the name of a Spanish lothario. Whatever it is, it might just be the coolest-sounding name for a city ever.
Most people's reports of the place are that it is a dirty, run-down, industrial city with not a lot to see - but being a former colonial city with an international past much like Tangier, a visit to a place called Casablanca just had to be done.

Back in Fes, the 'five-star' breakfast at my five-star hotel didn't quite live up to its billing, but I appreciated having a hot breakfast with scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes despite the bone-dry sausages. At least I was eating again. It was also included in the hotel price, so I made the most of it.
The other thing not quite five-star was the service - when the hotel receptionist and concierge finally decided to stop joking around while making me wait, between them they explained to me that buses from Fes to Casablanca were

Rick's Cafe

A re-creation of the cafe where the film was set.

pretty infrequent, and that I would be better off taking a train, which left every hour.

With the window open and the train hurtling through the dry, Moroccan countryside, I wasn't enjoying the ride one bit - the pollen sneaking into the cabin and up my nostrils made sure of that.
The final destination of the train wasn't Casablanca, so I had to be alert.
Looking out the window and seeing the sea and a big city, I asked the people in my cabin; "er...prochain arret Casablanca?"
"Oui" they responded.

The train dropped me off at Casa-Voyage, the main station in Casablanca, but I was hoping to arrive at Casa-Port, which was walking distance to my hotel. The lady at the "accueil" desk tells me that trains go there every half hour, but tells me to take a taxi.
"Make sure you make them use the meter", she tells me.
There is a group of red petit taxis waiting for me in the taxi rank, like a pack of hyenas awaiting some fresh meat.
I am approached by one of the drivers who I tell to take me to Casa-Port.
"50Dh", he tells me.
I tell him to

The Real Casablanca

Locals getting on with their lives with the Hassan II Mosque as a backdrop. Really showed the contrast between rich and poor in this country.

turn on the meter. He refuses, probably because he doesn't have one.
I talk to other drivers, but rather than create competition, they all laugh at me and tell me that 50Dh is a good price. They tell me that I would be taken on a joyride if I put on the meter, and tell me to go with the guy who I had just rejected. Solidarity within the union then.
Drivers in Casablanca are crazy - but it's almost as if having no rules on the road makes things safer because every driver is expecting to get cut off at any time.

My hotel is pretty cool. Located in a tree-lined square just inside the medina, it is right next to a youth hostel. The foyer of Hotel Central is funkily decorated and the owner, who reminds me of an older, bigger, Moroccan version of Benfica's Brazilian defender Luisao, was probably the most laid-back Moroccan I had ever met. With what sounded like Thievery Corporation on the stereo with the sunlight streaming through blinds of the half-closed shutters in the hotel's earthly-decorated cafe, for a moment I felt like I was in Brazil rather than Morocco.
The hotel was

Hotel Foyer

Funky foyer of my hotel.

basic, but well decorated with a nice colour scheme - it was fairly cheap too, at around £26 a night.
To literally top it all off, the hotel has a roof overlooking the sea and the city, which is decked out with tables and chairs to chill out on while watching the sun go down.
I then get a text from Joel, who has arrived at the bus station in Casablanca - with nothing else really to do, I decided to walk over to the bus station to pick him up.

Walking through Casablanca's medina was far from classical or romantic. It was the dirtiest medina I had walked through, litter and stray cats were everywhere. It felt dodgy at the time, but only because the place looked so poor.
I then entered the market section of the medina, where I was suddenly surrounded by leather, knock-off DVDs and trinket shops. The shopkeepers aren't too active or persistent in getting the passing tourists to browse their wares - as Morocco's financial and economic capital, Casablanca isn't the most touristy city so it was nice to not be hassled so much while walking the streets.
Once outside the medina, downtown

The Minaret

Aat 210m tall, the minaret of Hassan II Mosque is the tallest in the world.

Casablanca is pretty much like any other city. Lots of tall office buildings and lots of traffic - crossing the road was a nightmare. Walking through the city, the whole place smelt rank - lots of litter everywhere and piles of steaming, uncollected trash.
I finally met Joel at the bus station and I walked him back to where my hotel was so that he could check-in at the neighbouring youth hostel.

After chilling out for a short while, we headed back into town to watch the Champion's League semi-final between Real Madrid and Barcelona.
Casablanca's colonial history meant that alcohol and bars are a lot more accessible here than in Tangier, Chefchaouen and Fes. Our bar of choice was full unfortunately - the atmosphere, according to Lonely Planet, in the Spanish bar La Bodega is usually rocking and it would've been even more so for a clasico.
So we ended up at a place simply called "Bar" just a few doors down. At 20Dh for a small 250ml beer, the prices were standard for Morocco and after buying two rounds, the old owner was kind enough to give us some very salty nuts. Another round later and he

Rooftop View Of Casablanca

Looking towards the Hassan II Mosque from the roof of the hotel.

brought out some stewed chickpeas for us. After another round, he brought us out two pieces of lightly battered, salted fish. Awesome. Seeing that I wasn't really eating properly yet, the food was just about enough for me to forego dinner - mainly because Joel is a vegetarian and couldn't eat the fish.
As for the match itself, the game was a pretty ill-tempered affair - Real were intent on kicking Barcelona off the field and there was a melee in the dugout right on half-time which resulted in Barcelona's reserve keeper being sent off despite not even playing. Real coach Jose Mourinho was sent to the stands.
In the second half, Real defender Pepe was sent off for a studs-up foul on Dani Alves, allowing Barca the space they needed to score two goals, both by Lionel Messi. The second goal was brilliant yet typical effort as the world's best player dribbled through half the Madrid team before tucking the ball past Iker Casillas. Even the Moroccans had something to celebrate - the player who set up Messi's first goal was none other than Ibrahim Afellay, a Dutch player of Moroccan Berber descent.
I don't know if it has

Hotel Central

Cool little art-deco hotel where I stayed in Casablanca.

anything to do with Afellay or whether it is because Barcelona are the best team in the world, but a lot of the locals are really big on Barca. There is even Barca graffiti on the streets.
I was pretty tired, still recovering from the food poisoning I had in Fes, so we headed back to the hotel and hostel for the night.

Breakfast the next morning was another carb-fest, served with freshly squeezed orange juice and mint tea. Moroccans have a thing about pouring mint tea into the cup from a great height, to increase the amount of bubbles in the tea. Having seen that I had obviously not poured my tea correctly, the guy who served my breakfast then took my tea away, came back with a new teapot, and then poured my tea the correct way - the Moroccan way.
I then checked out and met up with Joel, before we made our way towards the main sight in Casablanca - the Hassan II Mosque.
We had to walk north through the medina and the northern part of the medina is actually quite nice. Although the buildings were still pretty run-down, the people there seemed friendly

Arches

At the Hassan II Mosque.

and I felt completely safe. Children were out playing in playground surrounded by a small reserve lined with palm trees. The sun was shining and everyone seemed relaxed.
Walking past some navy barracks and then some seriously derelict housing, the Hassan II Mosque suddenly appeared ahead of us, seemingly rising out of the sea. Taking three years to build and inaugurated in 1993, the Hassan II Mosque is the biggest mosque in Morocco and the fifth-largest in the world. The 210m-high minaret is the tallest in the world.
It is built on reclaimed land and inside, parts of the floor is made of glass where you can see the ocean beneath it. It was a hot day, and some of the locals were cooling off in the sea next to the mosque. I wouldn't have minded myself, but not after seeing how rough the water was, as well as the litter floating on top of it.
Having a closer look at the mosque, the design is elaborate and opulent. It is huge inside, where tourists like myself not willing to pay for a guided tour got a glimpse from one of the huge open doors. The mosque can fit 25,000

Inside The Hassan II Mosque

I got a free glimpse of the inside - it was pretty minted.

people inside as well as a further 80,000 in the square outside. It must've taken millions to build.
Joel then mentions how the people of Casablanca were made to foot most of the bill - looking at the squalid housing almost right next to the mosque, you really saw the contrast. Much as this is a magnificent sight - perhaps the most impressive single sight that I have seen in Morocco - that will inspire many of the locals, seeing the contrast between rich and poor really made me question whether King Hassan II got his priorities right when building this thing.

We decided to take a different route back into town, getting almost completely lost. On the way, we managed to engage with some of the locals a little, who seemed surprised, yet happy to see tourists in their neck of the woods. Joel played street football with some local kids, while we both stopped at a smoothie bar for a, er, smoothie.
We came to the local produce markets and a more general market where locals were selling their wares on cloths laid down directly on the footpath - t-shirts, cloth and even rugs. I felt like

Kids

An alley in one of the poorer parts of town that we walked through.

we were walking through a more real non-tourist Morocco - people just going about their normal lives. There was something satisfying about walking through these parts.
We eventually made it back into the medina - the fried fish smelt good - before arriving at one of the gates leading out of the medina.

The remnants of Casablanca's colonial past lie in the old, worn, European-style buildings that lined a lot of the downtown streets. While not classical-European in architecture - although some did mimic buildings you might see in Paris - a lot of the buildings are art-deco, but faded. You could only really imagine the splendour of the buildings in their heyday back in the 1920s and 1930s.
After our tour of art-deco Casablanca we decided to pay homage to the film with a visit to Rick's Cafe.

The film Casablanca revolved around "Rick's Cafe" and this reincarnation of it was built in 2004 allowing punters to experience what it might have been like to have really been in Rick's Cafe in 1942. There is a piano player that plays just about every night and the decor is supposedly reminiscent of the cafe in the film.
Unfortunately

Hotel Volubis

Casablanca does have the odd art-deco gem that reminds you of its colonial past.

for us, we would not be able to judge it's accuracy or ambience - it was closed, and would not be open again before I had to leave for Marrakesh that afternoon.

And that was that - I then bade farewell to Joel as I picked up my bags from the hotel and caught a taxi to the train station.
It was cool hanging out with Joel, who was very laid back and easy-going. He had a lot to say but more often than not, whatever he had to say was interesting. We agreed on a lot of things and had a lot in common.

So yes, Casablanca is pretty grimy and there is not a lot to see - but I actually really enjoyed my time there. For a place that is supposed to be all hustle and bustle, I was pretty relaxed. It's halcyon days are definitely gone though and that is a shame - the romance still lingers, but one can only imagine what the place was once like. Or you could just watch the film.

Beslama,
Derek

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